Night at the Museum
by HeartOfDarkess
Summary: Isabella works at a very special museum in London, but what happens when there seems to be strange unexplained events happening on one very...special...night.  O/S A/H.  Rated M for language.


**A/N: This massive one-shot is dedicated to the wax man Rob London...I hope you like it! I expect an online written review...so you'll have to join Fan Fiction! LOL Mean it!**

**Disclaimer: I don't claim to own Twilight, its characters, or even wax figure likenesses made of them , LOL, but this tale is fairly unique so I copyright the storyline.**

Izzy's POV

Life was good. I was twenty five, happily single and lived on my own after just having moved out of home at the end of last year. I was smart and independent, and I lived in a one bed studio flat in Paddington Green which was dingy and run down, but the place was all mine. It wasn't in the most upmarket part of London, but I loved the fact that I lived so close to the heart of the city...just a nice stroll away from all the action.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror as I tied my long, reddish-brown hair into a ponytail, noting that my usually clear green eyes looked like a roadmap of London, all red and puffy from a serious lack of sleep. I considered myself pretty, but not beautiful, and though my love life was non-existent, I'd come to accept that I was meant to be alone. Not that I minded. I didn't mind my own company at all, and was never the social butterfly that had thousands of friends. I had just a couple of select friends...friends that I cared a great deal about.

I headed to the kitchen and smiled to myself as I made a brew of Darjeeling tea along with a piece of toast, slathering it with my favourite home-made strawberry jam; the jam made compliments of my overbearing mother. She never went more than forty eight hours without calling me to make sure I'd eaten, paid my bills and gotten a good night's sleep, and as much as she drove me barmy, her heart was in the right place. Poor Dad. In the past, I was always the buffer zone between the two of them, and now that I was gone, Dad bore the brunt of my mother's ways.

As I ate and stared out the window to the street below, I smiled as I listened to the sounds of the city, hearing everything from thudding music playing in the distance to the sounds of traffic and the noise of people going about their daily business. I was a lucky girl, and in more ways than one. Not only did I live in the best place in the in the world, but I also had a pretty decent job. I was one of only two night guards at a rather famous museum in London, after having landed it last year, right before I moved out of home. It wasn't a glamorous job by any means, but as I recall I was up against quite a few people to land it, and so I, along with a shy Aussie guy by the name of Riley, snagged the envious job of guarding all the incredible creations contained in Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum.

It wasn't the job I intended to have until I dropped dead, but it suited me for now. I was in the ideal situation where I could utilise my spare time writing and honing in on my skills when nothing was happening in the wee small hours. I was an aspiring journalist who was waiting for her big break, and of course, I was waiting for a prime job with one of the more reputable publishing houses. I had no inclination to work for a tabloid, selling out the private lives of the famous and infamous...I wanted to write meaningful and truthful articles about important subject matter. I wanted to make my mark on the world, and do it in an honourable, ethical way. Yeh, I knew it was a lofty ideal, but one that I wanted to make into a reality.

I still found it hard to try and keep myself awake on the job. I'd tried to adjust my sleep patterns to the daytime, but my body clock was still buggered, and at times I found myself nodding off. I could even sleep standing up if I had to. To add to my weariness, I was up earlier than usual this Friday morning, and was so buggered that I felt like I'd been hit by a herd of stampeding elephants. I had to leave for work earlier than usual today, but no matter when I started work, I always looked forward to taking my thirty minute walk there. Day or night, there was always something going on the city, and that's why I preferred to walk around this amazing place rather than take the bus. I loved to soak up the atmosphere, watching as everything around me had the potential as a source of inspiration, this special place teeming with atmosphere twenty-four-seven.

I grabbed my keys, phone and handbag and locked the door behind me. As I made my way downstairs and left the building, I stared down the street and looked to my right. It was a clear day so I could see Hyde Park and as I turned and glanced to my left, I gazed down Church Street. On weekends it had a great street market, and I'd picked up a more than my share of bargains from there before. Like I said, I loved this place. I cut across the little park in front of the college across the road, and stared up at the flyover where I used to go to school, the familiarity of this place bringing me an odd sense of comfort. That was, until I walked past the police station. That place always gave me the creeps...it was the place where all terrorists were taken for questioning, and walking past it always unsettled me. Eyes darting about, I moved past there quickly and crossed Edgeware Road at the lights, striding past the tube station. The smell of curry hit my nostrils as I passed a few flats before the old Woolies HQ, until I reached the turning for Marylebone Station and headed for Baker Street.

As I took in the sights and sounds of the streetscape, I realised that today was going to be an extra special day. I had to start work earlier than usual because a launch was taking place in the afternoon. I didn't mind, after all it was a little extra money for me, though the pretentiousness of the event worried me a little. Someone famous was about to grace the hallowed halls of this place, and I was a little nervous about the whole thing, but couldn't put my finger on why. It wasn't as if I hadn't experienced these occasions before. Such events occurred often, and all museum staff members were always expected to work extra hours, and though today were no different, I got the feeling that this event was going to be bigger than any other I'd witnessed.

Though I knew how to look after myself and was well trained in self-defence, I had no idea if I'd be able to handle a crowd of paparazzi and panting teenagers if they somehow breeched the secured premises. I conceded that if the worst was to happen, I'd make sure that the displays were safe. After all, the star that was arriving today already had his very own personal security detail.

As I passed around the back of the planetarium, the huge yellow-green domed roof startling against the white building of the museum, I began to feel a little anxious. The energy was palpable outside the front entrance, and as the crowds of fans and paparazzi began to thicken and loom in on the roped-off area, a sense of dread hit me like a punch in the gut. I pressed the code to the staff entrance and opened the door, taking in a heavy breath and swallowing heavily as I prepared myself for today's goings-on.

"Morning, Izzy," Rob muttered. Rob London was the resident comedian and best wax man in the business, and the most famous part of this place...well the most notable that breathed anyway.

"Gimp," I replied in acknowledgement, winking at him as he passed me in the staff room. I opened my locker and pulled my work jacket on, then grabbed my hat, torch and two-way, along with my keys to this establishment.

Riley strode in, his cheeky smile as always plastered across his face. "Mate!" he said, slapping Rob on the back. Yep, Riley was a man of few words, and my partner in crime.

"Convict," Rob said in reply, smirking at him, always having a shot at him for being Australian. Poor Riley. He couldn't help being a Vegemite eater, and Rob couldn't help but constantly taunt him about it either.

"So Riley, how did the hot date with Bree go?" I asked, after having set them up on a date. Bree worked here last summer, and her and I had become quite good friends, and she'd finally gotten up the courage to let me set them up on a date.

"It was okay. I left a little early...I felt a bit sick," Riley answered vaguely, shrugging. I just didn't understand it. Riley was a young good looking guy, built like the side of a bus, chiselled and absolutely hot with his spiked brown hair and smouldering dark brown eyes, but his shy nature always seemed to hinder him when it came to the ladies. It had taken months of prompting for me to get more than a few words out of him, but we'd finally become friends...and now I just wanted him to meet someone nice, so I assigned myself the task of becoming his official matchmaker. I had my work cut out for me. Riley reminded me of Stan from South Park, who threw up every time he saw Wendy, the only difference being that he reacted the same way with every girl he met. Well, except for me, but friends didn't count.

"Erm, sorry you didn't feel well," I muttered, a little annoyed that after all my efforts, he basically chickened out of the date early. Oh well, I'd led the mountain to Mohamed... "Things didn't work out?"

"Nah, not really. She's a nice enough girl, just not the right girl for me."

"Fair play," I said reluctantly, shrugging. "But if she wasn't the right one, tell me who is," I asked, feeling as though I wanted to give up on finding him anyone suitable, but compelled to anyway.

He cleared his throat, his usual shyness kicking in as he said, "I honestly dunno. "

"Right. Let's break it down. What about physical attributes? What do you like in a girl?" I pushed.

He frowned and at the same time his cheeks went bright red. "We're not having this conversation, Isabella. Let's just say that no-one I've liked has liked me, and vice versa," he insisted.

Rob shot me a concerned stare, then turned to Riley. "It's your eyes. They're just too creepy. Girls don't like that," he joked, suddenly wincing as he rubbed his head. He'd had a car accident two days before after some idiot had rear-ended him and given him a mild case of whiplash and a fair dose of concussion. He had stayed home to rest for a few days, but nothing was going to stop him turning up for work today, even though he was here against doctor's orders. Ever since that accident, it put the wind up me so much that things well...had changed, and I'd begun to see him in a different light.

"I'll give you creepy, mate," Riley said cheekily, growling as he stalked towards us, his eyes widening as he raised his arms up to look like a monster. He laughed mockingly and said in the worst impression of a vampire I'd ever heard, "I vant to suck your blood!"

I pushed him away, laughing, and said, "Well vampire-man, I hope you have superhuman strength, because you're going to need it for the riot that's brewing outside."

"Guess instead of your blood I'll settle for a coffee then," he said, laughing as he stomped towards the staff room door. Before he left, he turned and waggled his eyebrows at me before he headed out to get his usual latte from Cafe Nero. No instant for him.

Rob pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger and let out a frustrated sigh. "You okay, Rob? You're still getting those headaches aren't you?" I asked.

"I'm feeling a little out of sorts, but I don't have time to worry about that now," he said, groaning in annoyance as he spoke. He never liked to be coddled, and in fact always spoke about anything other than himself.

"But..."

"Stop worrying, Izzy. The subject of my throbbing head is closed," he warned, raising an eyebrow at me.

"I'm not even going to go _there_," I replied, trying to stop the blush that I now felt creeping across my face.

"Riley's just delusional if he thinks that ridiculous accent and his looks will get him anywhere with women, not without him at least talking himself up a bit," Rob commented, changing the subject as he so often did. "It's not okay to spew forth with anything except well chosen words. Women tend to be put off by vomit," he added, shaking his head.

"And I suppose you could do better, the smooth operator that you are?" I challenged, watching as he put his things in his locker and slammed the door emphatically.

Suddenly blushing himself, he cleared his throat and changed the subject _yet again_, turning away from me as he did. Well that was new. Not much got Rob embarrassed. "You know I just realised something. If you put the words 'in bed' after most things, it sounds funny," he said, using his usual tactical diversion to perfection.

I just rolled my eyes at him and smiled. Rob always made me laugh, his quick wit and charm never failing to brighten even my crappiest day. I realised that I must be like a cat, and that he was always dangling sparkly things in front of me to amuse and distract me. Sometimes it infuriated me, as it deflected the conversation away from the subject of him, but mostly it just cracked me up. "You say the most random things, London. Either that or your concussion is far worse than I thought."

He smiled at me and kept talking. "I'll give you an example. I just ate buttered toast...in bed."

"Oh yeh, nothing sexier than crumbs in bed!" I said, smirking.

He just kept smiling at me, and ignored my comment. "I'm serious. Even the most horrible thing can be funny. What about...I just had a root canal...in bed."

"Yeh, I see what you mean. Going to the dentist will never be the same," I replied, smirking.

"I am hilarious," he said, matter-of-factly, shrugging his shoulders. "It's a gift."

"You and your bloody Londonisms," I said, bursting into uproarious laughter as I got myself ready for today's onslaught.

"Londonisms? I like it, especially...in bed," he said, nodding as he laughed in his usual deep tone. He watched as I put my jacket and hat on and abruptly shut my locker door then attached my keys and torch to my belt.

"Yeh, Londonsims. They kill me."

"They kill you? We can't have that today, so try not to die during the launch."

"I'll do my best, London," I said as I inhaled deeply, did up the buttons of my jacket, and his eyes lingered on me for a little longer than usual. "What?" I asked, checking my jacket for signs of lint or dust, knowing he had an eye for detail.

"Nothing. By the way, thanks for coming in early today. I'm a little worried that all those puppy touchers are going to ruin my work with their dirty little hands," he said as he brushed past me and headed out into the museum lobby, the smell of his aftershave invading my senses as I followed him. We passed the cafe where Riley was getting his latte and headed past display after display and towards the celebrity area, where his latest work of art took pride of place.

"Yeh, those blasted puppy touchers are nothing but trouble, are they?" I replied. He chuckled, and so did I. His analogy for describing the museum's clientele always amused me. "Perhaps you'll need to keep the violin bow handy, just in case you need to whip them into shape."

"I'll be watching them very carefully, and if one of them makes a move towards my work, they'll be personally spayed...by me," he said protectively. And with the amount of time and dedication spent on each piece, I didn't blame him one bit for wanting to ensure it was protected. He was also very casual about all the celebrities he met, and treated them as though they were no-one special. He was the consummate professional when it came to his craft, and had met many celebrities and people of importance over the years. Meeting celebrities just wasn't a big deal to him.

"So, what's he like? Down to earth?" I asked, curious about the most high profile actor in the known world, my journalistic instincts suddenly kicking into gear. I knew that details about every person he'd ever worked with would go with him to the grave. He never discussed anything of them, not even down to minor details. Even though we'd regularly joke about the apparent girth of some of the body parts of his latest creation, he never revealed a thing.

"He puts his trousers on one leg at a time, or so I believe," he said evasively, rather nonplussed by my questions.

"So he's a nice guy then?" I asked further. He shrugged in response.

I smiled awkwardly and he stopped and stared at me. "What? Do you fancy him?" he asked, laughing as he quirked an eyebrow.

"No, I'm just curious. I hope to interview him one day, if I ever get to be a journalist."

"He's nice enough I guess, but not as nice as me," he boasted.

"You know you've got to do something about your lack of confidence there, boyo," I shot back, punching him in the arm as we walked on.

He snorted as we arrived to the spot where the newest addition to the museum stood. I stared at his work, and I had to admit, it was perfection personified. Everything...from the crooked smile, to the well done and realistic tousled hair, to the five o'clock stubble and the way he stood there casually in a black designer jacket, waxy hands in the pockets of the tailored black trousers...was so spot on that he looked like he was nearly breathing. And those eyes...well they were just mesmerising. As much as I loved the job he'd done, I just didn't see the appeal that Robert Pattinson held, not when I compared the wax figure to the guy who stood there lovingly checking his handiwork, brushing an errant piece of lint off the finely tailored jacket, frowning as he made sure everything was just right.

"This is my best one so far," he said, nearly in a trance as the pride in his voice came through loud and clear. I found myself smiling like a lovesick schoolgirl as I watched him carefully study the results of all his hard work, which had taken longer than the usual eight hundred hours to complete. He told me that the real Rob was difficult to get hold of for sittings these days and had to use less live sittings than he wanted, instead having to use pictures to get the job done. Even under those circumstances, he did a brilliant job.

Mr Pattinson's namesake, who now stood near him, was far more appealing. Rob was around six feet tall, had thick wavy brown hair that grew just past his ears and warm hazel eyes, which were nearly piercing in their intensity, the green flecks melding with the brown like soft jade against a perfectly tanned body. His skin was pale, the colour setting off his startling eyes to perfection and he had the broadest shoulders I'd ever seen. He was a few years older than me, had a cheeky, cocky nature and a one-of-a-kind sense of humour.

I let out a little sigh of frustration. As much as I'd like him to see me as more than a friend, that's all we were, and up until recently I had been happy with that. Since his car accident, however, things just shifted for some reason. I imagined what it would be like to go out on a date with him, and had begun to see him in a new light. Yeh right. Like _that _was ever going to happen.

Of course, I had fallen into the friend category the moment we met, and he, Riley and I had become instant mates. Rob always preferred to work into the evenings when he wasn't out to do sittings, and the three of us had developed a pretty strong friendship, what with being the only ones left in the place after closing time. He was known as London because he was the essence of this place...and the best at his craft, his father having taught him everything he knew about the art of making the perfect wax figure. We didn't know if it was his real name, and he never told us either way, citing some secret code that went back to the time of his father. London was nothing if not intriguing.

"Yeh, but I don't see the appeal. He's a bit too pretty for me," I said, glancing at him, knowing that I'd much prefer him to anyone else, famous actors included.

"I agree. I prefer Johnny Depp myself," he answered, staring at me with a slight look of confusion as he caught me looking at him. "Now that guy could crack a joke," he said, chuckling as he spoke, undoubtedly trying to ignore my behaviour. London reminded me of Johnny too, his funny facial expressions similar to that of the star, but without the beard and moustache that the figure here wore, all except the little love patch of hair that sat directly beneath his full lips. I glanced at the figure of Johnny, and up until his newest creation, it had always been my favourite.

Worried that I'd given a little too much away, I decided for once to turn the tables on him, raising an eyebrow as I spoke. "You fancy Johnny? And here I was, thinking that you didn't date much because you hadn't met the right girl."

"Your mind's always in the gutter, isn't it Izzy?" he questioned cheekily as he laughed loudly. "Besides, he may be a good actor and a nice guy, but he's not as pretty as me. As far as pretty goes, I'm the best one there is...especially in..."

"Don't you _dare _say it!" I interrupted in exasperation. He gave me his best look of innocence, and then shot me an evil wink. I couldn't help but laugh.

He checked his watch, and then said, "They'll be here in around half an hour. I'm going outside for a bit of fresh air before the launch." He always got nervous and a little antsy when a new piece was about to be unveiled, behaving as if he was putting his heart out on a freeway, waiting for the next truck to squash it to nothing. "Come on Izzy," he prompted. "I'm not leaving you alone with 'he who shall not be named'...you might lose control and hump his leg."

"Very funny, gimp. But, I guess I could use a break before I work this bloody double shift," I said, huffing at the thought of the long day ahead. He took one last look at the figure before he turned and walked towards the door, and I couldn't help but watch him as he walked out of the room. I was seriously in need of help. Seriously. He turned and stared at me quizzically, catching me ogling his bum. Oh crap!

"Izzy?" he merely questioned, giving me a frown and a strange expression of urgency.

"Erm, sorry...just a little tired with the early start," I replied lamely, wanting to smack myself upside the head as I felt the heat cross my face. Why the hell was I always blushing in front of this man? He turned to walk on, and I was sure I heard a little grunt escape his lips. Oh my days! He's obviously cottoned on to my stupid crush, and was more than likely irritated and embarrassed by it. Oh just brilliant!

I lagged behind him, trying to gather my thoughts and as we passed the cafe, Riley bounded over, coffee in his hand. "Time for a smoko before the onslaught eh?" he said, reaching into his pocket for his fags.

"I thought you were quitting? Perhaps I need to get you some patches for your birthday," I said as we passed by the staff room and headed towards the private entrance. He snickered as he followed closely behind.

"That habit will be the death of you...or me, with you always smelling like an ashtray, knobhead," London commented as he rushed ahead, avoiding Riley like the plague.

"Yeh, I'm trying to kick the habit...but you know what it's like to be addicted to something," he replied. London hesitated at the door, threw it open and just sighed in response. I gave Riley a quizzical stare, and he shot me a look of innocence as we walked outside. Obviously they had a running joke going on that I wasn't privy to.

We headed outside and kept away from the swelling crowd, London racing ahead of Riley and me as if he wanted to make a hasty escape. As we headed around the planetarium and made our way across the road, Riley patted his pockets, searching for his lighter. Finally giving up, he glanced toward me and, realising that I never carried a lighter, he decided to suddenly ask, "Hey, London, you got a light?"

Distracted and no doubt about to have a go at Riley for being forgetful, London turned, shook his head and opened his mouth to speak, but as he did, a black Mercedes suddenly appeared out of nowhere, it's tyres screeching as it veered on the wrong side of the road. The engine was revving high and as it began to lose control, I realised in horror that it was headed right for my friend.

"London!" I screeched, feeling like everything happening around me was playing in slow motion. I tried to move faster, but it felt like my legs were stuck in mud. He tried in vain to move out of the way of the oncoming car, but there was no time. The car didn't stop in time before it hit him and sent him flying backwards, his head hitting the bitumen as he landed flat on his back.

"No!" I shrieked. I was instantly crouched on the ground by his side, my eyes darting over his body as I frantically searched for any signs of injury.

Riley stalked forward, seething, and tore open the driver's side door of the car. I'd never seen him so angry. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he screamed at the woman behind the wheel. Suddenly, two muscle bound men opened the other doors and emerged from the car, along with the idiot of a driver. She got out of the car immediately, and Riley looked at them all, his mouth immediately gaping as he took a few steps back, caught off guard by their menacing presence.

"Oh God! I'm so sorry! My heel got caught in the accelerator!" said the flame haired woman as she ran towards us, stumbling on her six inch heels as she travelled. My first aid training kicking in, I took off my hat and tossed it aside, leant in and checked his breathing, and felt for a pulse. "Is he alright?" she squeaked in a high pitched voice as she cast a shadow over us.

"He's breathing and has a pulse," I said, my jaw tightening as I looked up and glared at her, my anger beginning to kick in as I pressed my ear to his chest, listening to his breaths, hearing his heartbeat. "Best not move him in case there's anything broken."

"Victoria! Are you insane?" shouted a familiar voice as I heard another car door slam.

I glanced up towards the source of the voice, and there he stood, larger than life...Robert Pattinson. Flanking him were the two beefy bodyguards that Riley had encountered. They quickly followed him over, and they were dressed in black suits and wearing dark sunglasses, looking far more formally dressed than their boss did in his khakis and torn white t-shirt. As they stood closely behind him, Mr Pattinson knelt down next to me and whispered, "Is he okay? I'm so sorry about this."

"I think so," I muttered as I turned my gaze towards London, silently begging him to wake up.

He leant in closer still to study the face of the victim sprawled before him, then turned to stare at Victoria in horror as he made the connection. "Victoria, you just ran over Rob London!" he roared in exasperation, immediately recognising what his incompetent driver had just done. Of course, he would know London after having met him several times for sittings.

"Oh God! I'm so sorry!" she squeaked once more, staring at her boss with a regretful expression as the crowd became restless and loud, the noise bringing me to my senses somewhat. Mr Pattinson's eyes darted around, and he pulled the baseball cap down lower on his head, as if that would miraculously conceal who he was.

I realised that this situation could pose potential embarrassment for the star, so I decided that he needed to get him away from the scene of the accident. "Riley," I ordered calmly, "Take Mr Pattinson inside before the paparazzi get wind of this, and go call an ambulance. He needs to get inside for the launch."

"Got it," he said as he hesitated stared at Victoria, looking as if he didn't want to go. I picked up my hat and handed it to him, silently shooing him away. He led them quickly and quietly across the street and I watched them disappear as he let them in through the staff entrance. Victoria, meanwhile, stood there, rocking from foot to foot, absolutely freaking out.

"London, can you hear me?" I shouted as I continued to monitor him, checking his pulse once more and pressing my ear to his chest. Though everything else seemed fine, he was out cold, and knowing that he was already concussed, this worried me to no end.

"I'm so sorry!" she repeated yet again as she knelt down, took off the offending shoes and sat down next to me. "He...will be okay, won't he?" she pleaded as the tears leapt from her eyes.

"He already had concussion before you hit him, you idiot!" I snarled. I didn't care about how guilty I made her feel...she was going to know exactly what she had done to him, and precisely how serious this was.

"Oh God!" she shrieked as her tears turned into loud sobs. Oh great. Just brilliant. Now I had to comfort a blubbering, hysterical redhead as well. One that kept saying the same thing repeatedly like she was on drugs. Thankfully, I could hear the sirens of the approaching help, and would not have to deal with her for that much longer. At the same time, I heard the screams of the crowd increase in intensity. I realised that Mr Pattinson must have made a quick appearance out the front of the museum, and was relieved that at least this accident would be guaranteed to go unnoticed now.

As the ambulance arrived, so did the police and tow truck. The car had sustained a little damage but was drivable, so Victoria abruptly put her shoes on and rose to her feet, stumbling in them as she sent the tow truck away.

"He already has concussion and a bit of whiplash," I told them in a panicked voice as the paramedics checked Rob and then placed a neck brace around his neck and moved him onto a stretcher.

"Thanks, Miss," one of them replied as they raised the stretcher and wheeled it into the back of the ambulance.

"Nothing broken is there?" I asked as one of them got in the back of the ambulance with him while the other headed towards the front of the ambulance.

"Nothing obvious," he replied curtly. "Don't worry, the neck brace is just a precaution," he added as he looked at me and sensed my anxiety. "We're taking him to Princess Grace Hospital, in case you want to check on his status later." He smiled kindly at me for a brief moment before continuing to work on his patient. His very special, one of a kind patient.

"Thanks. Please, take good care of him okay?" I begged in desperation. He nodded once in understanding. I was relieved that he was not only in good hands, but was going to be a short walk away at the hospital around the corner, in Nottingham Place. As I watched the ambulance door shut, the tears finally began to flow from my eyes, and I realised something. Life was short, and if he got through this, I was going to tell him how I felt about him once and for all. Damn my stupidity until now, and if he didn't like it, well so be it, and if I had to leave my job because if it, I didn't care.

Victoria and I stood in the street, and both of us let out a heavy sigh at the same time as we watched the ambulance pull away and disappear around the corner.

I stood there in shock, leaving Victoria to be interviewed by the police, and then gave my witness account when asked, telling nothing but the truth as I saw it. I guessed that she would probably receive a fine, and perhaps have her licence suspended for a while, but I didn't care. She'd hurt the one of the few people I cared about in my small world, and I couldn't give a shit about anything or anyone else in that moment. Sighing to myself after the police left, I tried to smile and at the same time I placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, realising that she was probably in a state of shock after what had happened. "Come on, Victoria," I said as if talking to a child, indicating my hand towards the building. "Let's get you inside."

By the time we there, the launch was over, and Mr. Pattinson and his security were headed towards the staff room door just as Victoria and I had arrived there. Riley indicated his hand for them to head inside the staff room, and Victoria smiled at him briefly, causing Riley to blush in response. Interesting...certainly an improvement on vomiting everywhere.

"Is he going to be alright?" Mr Pattinson asked in a soft, concerned voice as we all sat down at the melamine table.

"He's unconscious, but he's in the best of hands," I replied as a stray tear trickled down my cheek, my distress so great that I didn't care who I cried in front of now. He glanced disapprovingly at Victoria, but said nothing, the crowd outside becoming louder once more, obviously not having had enough of a fix of Mr Pattinson.

"We have to go now, but please let me know if there's anything I can do," he said genuinely as he stood to his feet.

I shook my head, too overwhelmed to give him more than one simple answer. I needed to see him. "Thanks, but I just want to get to the hospital," I answered anxiously.

Victoria glanced towards the still blushing Riley and then back to me and said, "Here's my card. Please give me a call and let me know how he's doing. By the way, what's your name?" she asked as I took the card and shoved it in my pocket.

"Isabella," I replied, causing Mr Pattinson to smirk. Yeh, I knew I had the same name as his co-star had in the movies where he played a vampire, and had been teased numerous times about it by Riley. At least London called me Izzy, and he was the only one who didn't tease me about my fictional namesake. He, after all, had been sculpting the wax figure of his.

"You could even pass as her London-born sister," he commented, smiling at me, trying to put me at ease.

"Thanks," I croaked, my voice cracking under the strain of the day as I grasped the card.

"Nice to meet you, Isabella. Just call Victoria if there's anything else you need," he added, smiling that heart melting smile that he was so famous for as he and his bodyguards headed out the door, leaving Victoria behind.

"Riley, would you mind taking me out the back way so I can get the car and pick Mr Pattinson up out front?" Victoria asked, smiling at him coyly.

"No worries," he replied, smiling broadly as they headed towards the door. Riley turned back towards me and said, "Why don't you go to the hospital, Isabella. The launch is over, and I'll tell the boss you've gone to see if he's alright. He's still busy schmoozing with the VIP's."

"I'll probably have to fill in an incident report," I complained.

"You've got twenty four hours before you have to worry about the paperwork, Isabella. Just go and see him, and I'll let the boss know." Victoria gave him a little smile, and then let out a small giggle. What was with that woman?

The noise of the crowd outside ramped up once more, reminding me that my best friend was in hospital. Reminding me of what I had to do now. "You're right. I'm off then, and thanks...I won't be long." I watched as they left and followed quickly behind, pushing my way through the crowds that were nearly rioting to catch a glimpse of Robert Pattinson as he signed a few autographs and left in the slightly dented black Mercedes. Once free, I sprinted towards my waiting destiny...

~00~

I arrived at the hospital, but he was not in his room. The nurse advised that he was still unconscious and, he'd been sent away for some tests. I had lied and said I was his fiancée so I could get his room number, then sat there and waited. "Meh...in for a penny, in for a pound," I muttered to myself.

After waiting for about an hour, I breathed a heavy sigh of relief when they wheeled him back into the room. His face was pale, and every bit of colour had gone from his cheeks and lips.

"When will the results come back?" I asked the nurse.

"We should know more by tomorrow. In the meantime, you're welcome to stay until visiting hours are over," she said, checking her watch. "Which is in around half an hour." She turned on her white rubber soled shoes and left us alone for a bit.

I pulled up the faux leather blue lounge chair that I'd been sitting in before he arrived, wanting to get as close to him as possible. I watched as his chest rose and fell, noted that his arm was hooked up to an IV, and felt my bottom lip tremble as I thought about him lying there so helpless.

"London, I don't know if you can hear me, but I've been thinking," I said as I took his hand in mine and gave it a gentle squeeze. I looked at his face which didn't respond, but felt his hand flinch slightly as I touched him. It was soft and warm, and absolutely wonderful, as opposed to my sweaty, sticky club of a hand. I had no idea why, but I was nervous. It wasn't as if he could hear me, but I thought that talking to him now would give me the courage to tell him how I felt to his face when the opportunity came up.

"I've been thinking that since...well you're not seeing anyone, and neither am I, that we could...well you know...go out to dinner or something?" As if he were awake, I cringed and stupidly waited for his response. "It's okay if you don't want to," I continued. "But if you ever felt like it, I'd be okay with it...or not. I mean, it's up to you...we can still be friends, if you prefer. No big deal," I lied.

I watched to see if there was a response to what I was saying. Of course there wasn't. The man was out cold. Feeling a little braver, I moved towards him, closing my eyes briefly as I rested my chin on the bed and held his hand a little tighter. The scent of his aftershave wafted in the air around me, drawing me even closer, sending me into a temporary stupor. In this vulnerable state I said, "Ever since you've been in those accidents, I've realised that I'd like to be more than friends." With my eyes still closed, I leant in and softly kissed the back of his hand, then let out a yawn. "I like you London," I added as my eyes shut tighter and I drifted...immersing myself in my own little moment...

~00~

I was interrupted by a young blonde haired doctor arrived in the room and strode over to check his patient. "I'm Dr Hale. Sorry to disturb you, but I need to examine this patient," he said in a twangy American accent. He looked just like Jackson Rathbone, I realised, and I was tempted to ask him if he had a cousin by that name. I rose to my feet and let go of London's hand. This guy looked younger than me, his ice blue eyes soft and forgiving the only thing that made him seem a little older than his baby face appeared.

"Right. Do you know how long he'll be like this?" I asked.

"No, but I'm hoping he'll wake soon," he answered. He walked to the end of the bed, picked up the chart and said, "All indications are that he's quite heavily concussed, but the test results will give us a clearer picture. Now if you'll excuse me..." He checked his watch then quirked an eyebrow at me, silently telling me that visiting hours were over.

"Erm, yeh I guess I should go," I whispered reluctantly, not wanting to leave. As I turned and headed for the door, I glanced back at the man that was most important in my life right now, and sighed wistfully, hoping that I'd be able to look into those warm hazel eyes very soon.

As I walked back to work, I was relieved that the crowd had gone, and that it was nearly closing time. Riley spotted me as I walked in and took me to the Cafe, ordering me a hot chocolate and him his usual coffee. "So, how's our little mate doing?" he asked as we sat together, and Jessica prepared to shut the cafe down.

"Still out to it. They'll know more when they get the test results," I said. "The boss still here?"

"Nah. He left as soon as the photographers and the VIP's did," he answered. "But I told him you'd be filling in the incident report later. You gonna be okay to work tonight? You look a little stressed."

"I'll be fine," I said as I took a sip of the hot chocolate, wishing it was something that had a bit more of a kick. I realised that after the day I'd had, I needed to distract myself to get through tonight. "So, what's the deal with Victoria?" I asked, trying to keep my mind off things. He shrugged in response and averted his eyes from me. "Oh don't tell me you've got a thing for redheads?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he muttered.

"Don't be embarrassed Riley, I think it's great. You know she looks a little like the redhead in that Twilight movie. You going to ask her out?"

"Can we...not go there right now?" he asked shyly, looking a little disappointed. I didn't have time to psychoanalyse him. I had other things to worry about.

"Fine. Time to lock up now and get this place secure anyway," I said as I ignore his expression and checked my watch.

As we ensured that everyone was gone we met up in the celebrity display area, and there he stood, Robert Pattinson's wax figure. I was saddened that London didn't get to see the launch of his favourite piece. He'd never missed a launch before, and he was so proud of this one in particular.

"He looks so real, doesn't he Riley?"

"Yep, it's scary," he answered, frowning as he stared at London's latest masterpiece.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh nothing. I just wanted to...ask you something," he said awkwardly.

Sick of him saying things without saying very much, I began to lose my patience. "Just spit it out Riley," I said as I watched him hesitate.

"Okay, okay. I was just wondering...would you mind if I asked Victoria out?" he asked as I heard a snort echo through the room.

I stopped and turned my head towards the doorway. "Did you hear that?" I asked, staring around the room as I tried to figure out where the sound came from.

"Hear what?" he replied, his face red as my bloodshot eyes now. I shrugged in response, frowning in confusion as I spoke further.

"Nothing, I guess. So why are you asking me if I mind then?"

"Well, I was...um...I dunno. I thought that you...might have had a problem with it."

Oh shit. He doesn't think I fancy him, does he? "Not at all, Riley," I said, trying to remain casual.

"Course. So, would you give me her number?"

I dug the card out of my pocket, handed it to him and said distractedly, "Well as long as she doesn't think you're stalking her or anything, I guess so. Listen, let's do our rounds. I thought I heard something and I want to make sure the building is secure." Riley breathed a heavy sigh and smiled at me as he put the card in his pocket, and I was happy to see that his blush seemed to be dissipating. Crisis averted.

We both walked out towards the front entrance and ensured all doors were locked and began our rounds, working our way throughout the sports stars, characters, royalty and the sports zone, spirit of London and TV zone. I radioed Riley who had been checking the emergency exits and staff area along with all the offices and the sculptors' workshop. All was clear. Though I wondered what the noise I heard earlier was, I put it down to the stress of the day causing me to hear things. I headed back towards the celebrity display area, and that's when I heard it...

"Oi!" I heard a male voice shout.

"I knew I heard something before," I muttered under my breath. I walked swiftly towards where I thought the noise came from. "Who's there?" I asked, raising my voice as my eyes darted around the cafe. "Answer me!" I demanded, trying to prompt the voice again so I could hone in on its source.

"Well, if you don't know then I'm not going to tell you. This dream is fun...in bed," the voice echoed, laughing wickedly, the sound of it causing me to jump. Well whoever this was, he was a cheeky bugger. I knew that the voice was coming from area near the celebrity displays, so I walked out of the cafe and dashed towards where I thought it came from.

Though the familiar joke and tone of voice unsettled me a bit, I pushed any stupid notions out of my head, instead focusing on getting this unwelcome intruder out of the building. "It's after hours, and you're meant to be gone. Now just tell me where you are and I'll arrange for you to leave," I said as I walked, weaving through the various figures that graced the museum. Why the bloody hell was this person here anyway? And then I wondered if it was some crazed Pattinson fan that had hidden here then couldn't get out after closing time. Suddenly feeling a little unsettled, I reached down to my belt and unhooked my two-way, and called Riley.

"Riley, all clear?" I asked.

"Yeh mate, all clear. Why?"

"Erm...oh no reason. Just thought I heard something again," I said. "It's nothing," I said as I hooked my radio back onto my belt, not wanting to admit that I was hearing voices. Was I losing it? Was the lack of sleep finally getting to me?

"You know, you really should look into getting psychiatric help. How can you not know who I am?"

My head snapped up and my body tensed in anger. "That's it! Whoever you are, show yourself or I'm calling the police!" I hissed in frustration as I still tried to work out where the voice was coming from, while at the same time trying to ignore the fact that my heart was about to burst out of my chest.

"I'm not trespassing, you stupid girl, I'm here like I always am. You've been on the pear cider again, haven't you?"

Oh if only I was drunk. That at least would help me cope here. My hallucinations would then be more easily explained. Or had someone decided to squat here? How could I not have noticed that before? "You're here like you always are? Have you been stowing away here?" I asked.

"What the hell are you talking about? I'm here to work, as usual. Though I can't figure out why I feel so different. This dream seems so real. Maybe it's the concussion. I think I need to see the doctor again."

Obviously this man was an escaped mental patient. Either that, or I was about to become one. "Look. Just tell me where you are, and then we can get you out of here and to your doctor. I promise I won't tell anyone and if you leave now charges won't be pressed," I said calmly, trying to keep the conversation going so I could hone in on the voice and prove to myself that I hadn't lost the plot entirely. As I neared the celebrities, the voice became distinctively louder and much, much clearer. I stopped near the latest creation, waiting for the voice to respond...and I could feel that he was close by. I was overwhelmed by the feeling a person gets when they know someone is staring at them.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, why would you want to press charges? Remind me to make an appointment for you at the optician. Can't you see that it's me? Rob?" he asked, the voice coming from the vicinity of Rob Pattinson's wax figure. I moved in closer, at the same time trying to fathom what was going on. And then, a faint glimmer of recognition floated through my mind. I let out a heavy sigh of relief, grateful that I wasn't about to face some nutter that had broken in, but confused as to why London was already out of hospital. On top of that, where was he?

"Rob? They released you from hospital? I thought you were unconscious. Where the bloody hell are you?" I asked as I approached the model, my eyes darting everywhere. Obviously he'd chosen to mess with me, and I wasn't impressed.

"Here!" I heard him clear as a bell as I stood closely to the figure, his voice causing me to jump out of my skin. The hairs suddenly went up on the back of my neck as his voice echoed throughout the room.

"Fuck me!" I screamed as my hand flew over my mouth, the horror I now felt as I looked into his eyes unmistakable.

"Oh, you couldn't be that lucky," he bragged as I heard him laugh.

I released my hand from my mouth and tentatively reached out towards the figure. "Rob? Is that _really _your voice in there or some recording? How are you doing that?" I asked as I slowly pulled the torch off my belt with my free hand. I had to be on alert. If this was some sort of trick, I needed to be prepared. At least if anyone was going to attack, I'd be ready to hit them over the head. I so wished I was an armed guard.

"How am I doing what?" he asked, his voice filled a little confusion.

"No. I don't believe this," I decided, shaking my head as if somehow that would rid me of his voice. This was some sort of trick. My face was inches from the wax figure now, and I challenged, "Okay, then prove it. Prove that it's you, here, now and that I'm not losing my mind."

"What? How? You want me to prove I'm standing here? Are you on medication? I'm standing right in front of you. You know...London...the gimp?" And now his voice nearly seemed panicked, probably because I would not acknowledge what I knew to be impossible, but true nonetheless. I gasped and held my hand to my heart.

"You've got to be taking the piss!"

But, his voice was deadly serious. "No. Why would I do that?" he asked.

And then the rational side of mind took over as I tried to figure out a reasonable explanation for this. Of course! With modern technology, anything was possible these days, and I rattled off one question after another. "So that's why you took so long to make this one? You've built a video camera or something into this model, haven't you? You-you're in a room somewhere, playing a sick joke on me, aren't you?" I chuckled nervously, studying the face of the figure before me.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he replied. "Are you high?"

"Alright, did you set me up then? Is Ashton Kutcher going to punk me?" I asked, my chuckle strangled by my ever-tightening throat as I whirled around and searched for the non-existent cameras. Nope. No Ashton here. What the hell? What sort of mind trick was this anyway?

"Why the hell would Ashton be here? You know it's only ever the three of us!"

"Look London, I don't know what the hell you're playing at, but...this is not funny. You know I don't go for practical jokes."

"Don't be stupid, I'm not playing a practical joke. Now just calm down and tell me what's got you so worked up!" He was beginning to get a little pissed off at me, but it really didn't register as I was too shocked to worry about how upset he was.

My mouth dropped so much that I felt a bit of drool escape each corner of my lips. My hands shaking, I turned on the torch and shone it at the face of the figure before me, my body inches away from the perfectly sculpted wax impression of Rob Pattinson, and searched carefully for any signs of movement. The eyes glinted for a moment, as if they had life within them, the torch light catching something within their depths.

"Get that light out of my eyes! I've already got a throbbing head!" he yelled, his words causing me to flinch and move the light of the torch away from him. Tentatively, I reached my hand up in an attempt to touch his...the face, before his voice rudely stopped me. "Oi! Hands off the merchandise! What the hell's wrong with you?"

"I-I dunno," I said incoherently as I withdrew my hand.

"Izzy, you're making no sense. You need to calm down and speak slowly," he said, my panic beginning to rub off on him. And there it was. Final confirmation that it was him. Or more accurately, confirmation that I was as mad as a hatter. Or suddenly psychic. He was the only one who called me Izzy, and on top of that, his unusually serious tone of voice brought me to the realisation that this was no joke. With that knowledge, my heart immediately picked up its pace, thumping out of my chest as I felt waves of panic rush through me. The stress of this situation suddenly overwhelmed me, hitting me like a bolt of lightning, and I wanted nothing more than to run away screaming. I dropped the lit torch to the ground, took several steps back and clutched my head in my hands as my eyes grazed over the perfectly sculpted wax figure before me. I had finally had a nervous breakdown. Lost the plot. Obviously. Men in white coats were going to come get me any minute now. Yep. Any minute now I was going to be taken away and shoved in a straight jacket and thrown into the nearest rubber room...

"No! This can't be happening!" I yelped in a high, shrill voice, violently shaking my head as I felt my hands nearly pull my hair out by the roots. I felt the wall hit my back and slid down until my bum hit the floor. I was going to lose my job, and have to move back home with my parents. Why would anyone want to keep me on here when I was a stark raving loon?

"Talk to me Izzy," he warned in desperation as I rocked back and forth a few times, trying to calm myself.

"You're not taking the piss are you...you really have no idea what's happening?" I asked as I stopped my movements, released my hair and looked towards the figure.

"Why would I take the piss when I've had so much to worry about with the launch? Have I missed it?"

This was unbelievable. Here he was in an alternate universe and all he could worry about was the launch. This was by far the strangest thing that happened to me so far in my short, sheltered life. I wondered how this was possible, all rational thought bringing me into the realm of horror movies. Had he died and come back to haunt this place? Was I in a remake of the House of Wax? Was I going to become the next Paris Hilton?

I nodded my head, finally whispering, "Yes, you missed the launch."

Then, there was silence for a few moments. I imagined he was trying to come up with an explanation as to how this was happening. In the end, he gave me the same explanation as before, while trying to reassure me. "Izzy...it's a dream. It's okay."

And then, the panic turned to anger, but just to make sure I wasn't the one dreaming, I grasped my arm and pinched myself. Hard. No, that didn't work. Why the hell was this happening to me? I had to tell him, make him realise what had happened. "It's okay? I'm talking to a bloody wax figure! One that's answering back!" I snapped as I felt a tear run down my cheek, shaking my head once more, trying to rationalise what was happening while trying to keep a lid on my out of control emotions.

"_What?" _he bellowed, as I slowly rose to my feet, now sobbing as I approached the figure with fear and trepidation.

"Just listen to me London. You-your voice is coming from inside...Rob Pattinson's wax figure!" I confirmed, stammering as I spoke, shocked that my apparent breakdown came out of the blue like this.

"You...mean to say...that I'm inside the..._wax figure_? The one I made?"

"Yes, you are," I confirmed, my voice and body shaking as I spoke. "Oh this is so fucked up!"

"Fucked up? Is _that_ all you can say? I'm a wax statue for fuck's sake!" he said, his voice filled with horror and panic.

Tears began to spring from my eyes freely now, the overwhelming situation causing me to lose the plot entirely. As I sobbed, I could hear him continue to shout a stream of obscenities, none of which made sense until he commanded, "Stop crying Izzy. Please...don't."

As much as I wanted to retreat within myself, suck my thumb and go into the foetal position, I knew he was right. I realised that I needed to keep it together for both our sakes. My losing it was not doing either of us, or this situation, any good. I took a cleansing breath and wiped my tears away with the back of my hand as I approached him. "London, there has to be a rational explanation for this, and I'm not giving up until I get to the bottom of it," I whispered, trying to remain calm.

"The bottom of what?" Riley asked as he walked in the room and stood next to me. "What in blue blazes is going on, Isabella?" he asked, his eyes darting between me and the wax figure. "You're talking to the displays? Are you off your rocker?"

"No, unlike you, she's not," London said. "Now sod off!"

"Who was that?" he asked, staring at me then back to the wax figure. "Did you hear that? What the hell? Is London here?" he shouted as he bent down, picked up my lit torch and shone it behind the displays, the light searching in and around the room for any signs of life. I knew he was wasting his time.

"Don't you need to be in a dark corner somewhere, vomiting?" he moaned angrily. Then he mumbled further words that I couldn't make out...something about not knowing when to back off.

The tears came once more, and they were a combination of tears of relief and tears of sheer terror. Riley heard him. It wasn't just me going insane. Though I was relieved that I still had all of my faculties, it still didn't explain how this was happening. I was in the middle of a waking nightmare.

"Stop upsetting her. She's got enough to deal with!" Rob snarled, and as he spoke, Riley jumped back and stared incredulously towards the figure, mouth gaping wide open as he realised where the voice of our friend was coming from.

"No fuckin' way!" Riley said, aghast.

"Yes fuckin' way, knobhead," London snapped back in frustration.

"You're really in there?" Riley shrieked as he took a step forward and lightly rapped his clenched fist on the head of the figure.

"Riley!" he roared.

"Okay okay you two. Just stop for a minute and let me think." Unfortunately my brain had left the building, as if it were Elvis. I had no idea what to make of this situation, or what to do about it. I took a few cleansing breaths and wiped a stray tear from my face.

"This is still a dream, right?" he asked in all seriousness.

"We're both awake, Rob, so no I don't think it is," I answered frankly, hearing him gasp.

"I-I" Riley stammered, trying to wrap his head around the situation.

"What? Am I dead then?" London asked.

And that's when an idea struck. "I'll be right back. Riley, it's okay. Just keep an eye on things," I said as I patted him on the back and walked out of the room, his gaping mouth hanging open so wide that he could've scooped lint off the floor. London muttered again, but I couldn't make out what he was saying.

"But, Isabella," Riley whined in protest. Having no time for his problems, I ignored him and walked away. He would just have to have his breakdown on his own.

I approached one of the offices and closed the door, reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone, and called the number of the hospital as I sat myself behind the polished mahogany desk. Courtesy of my mother, she made sure I had every emergency number, local doctor, dentist and hospital on my phone and for once, I was grateful that she was...well her.

"Princess Grace Hospital, how may I help you," answered the woman.

"I'd like to check on the status of a patient," I said.

"Name?" she asked.

"Rob London," I said, hoping that he was listed under that name, mentally pleading that I had given her the correct one. "He's in ward thirteen, room two," I added more specifically, recalling in an instant where his room was.

"One moment," she said, putting me on hold for a few moments.

I tapped my fingers on the desk impatiently, hoping that my deepest fears weren't true. And I waited. And waited.

"Oh hurry up!" I groaned as I tapped some more, listening to classical music while I was on hold. "Bloody Clare de Lune," I complained.

Then the music stopped as she finally took me off hold and spoke. "You mean the admission from earlier today. The concussion patient?"

"Yes," I replied, biting my lip.

"He's still unconscious, but stable," she said. Of course I was nothing but relieved. He was...there...alive. But...his voice was here. I hung up without as much as a thank you to the woman at the other end of the phone, and as I put my phone away and swivelled my body in the chair to stand up, I bumped the mouse that sat on the desk, making the computer screen come to life. The boss had left his computer switched on, and as I stared at it, I got myself another idea. Maybe I could get some information on the subject to explain what had happened here tonight.

"Let's see. What can I search," I muttered in self conversation as I felt my brows crease into a frown. I considered looking up ghosts, but he was alive. Then I considered hallucinations, but Riley had heard him as well. "That's it!" I shrieked in victory. I Googled the words I wanted and came up with a Wikipedia article on the subject, quickly printing it off before I switched off the computer and raced out of the office.

As I approached the display, I heard the two of them having a heated discussion, one that I only caught the end of.

"You need to sod off before I make you," London said angrily.

"You think you have a shot now?" Riley snapped back as he sensed me there and turned around.

"More than you could ever have in your dreams, convict," he replied as Riley cleared his throat.

"Okay boys, why aren't you playing nice?" I asked, arching my brows at Riley.

"It's nothing," Riley said.

London snorted, causing me to let out a frustrated sigh.

I took a deep breath and stared into the eyes of the figure. "I called the hospital and London, and you're still unconscious," I said, holding my breath as I wondered if I should be telling him this information, but feeling compelled to share it at the same time.

"Still doesn't explain how I'm here, but I guess it's handy to still have a body. I've become quite attached to it...especially...in bed," London said, laughing nervously.

"Still cracking jokes when you don't have a body, eh London?" Riley said. "Well good onya!"

"Jog on, knobhead!" he growled.

"I'm outta here. You mind him if you like. I'm doing another walk around." I knew Riley had had enough, but I had little time to worry about their pissing contest. He near sprinted out of the room to get away.

"London, if you're finished acting like a two year old, you might want to read this. I Googled something interesting," I said, holding up the piece of paper in my hand.

"Bring it here then, oh wise one," he moaned sarcastically.

"Ungrateful git," I mumbled as I moved in closer and held the page up, listening carefully as he read the words out loud, parroting them insincerely as though reading them was a big waste of time.

"The idea of astral travel is rooted in common worldwide religious accounts of the afterlife in which the consciousness or soul's journey or 'ascent' is described in such terms as an...out-of-body experience, wherein the spiritual traveller leaves the physical body and travels in his/her subtle body (or dream body or astral body) into 'higher' realms. It is therefore associated with near death experiences and is also frequently reported as spontaneously experienced in association with sleep and dreams, illness, surgical operations, drug experiences, sleep paralysis and forms of meditation.

It is also sometimes attempted for its own sake, or may be believed to be necessary to, or the result of, some forms of spiritual practice. It may involve 'travel to higher realms' called astral planes but is commonly used to describe any sensation of being 'out of the body' in the everyday world, even seeing one's body from outside or above. It may be reported in the form of an apparitional experience, a supposed encounter with a doppelganger, some living person also seen somewhere else at the same time."

He took in a huge breath, and then let out a heavy sigh after he'd finished reading the first part of the article. I could tell right away that he wasn't taking my idea seriously.

"So, what do you think?" I asked anyway.

"You know you can't believe everything you read on the internet. And don't get me started on Twitter and MySpace," he joked. "Even Facebook is fucked." I found it incredible that he had the ability to crack jokes in this situation.

"How do you explain what's happened then?" I said as I held the page even closer to his face, pointing at it emphatically.

"I told you. It must be a dream. And I am going to wake up in the hospital soon...in bed!"

"Ugh!" I grunted in frustration as I screwed the paper up into a ball and threw it behind me. I realised I wasn't going to convince him otherwise, and that maybe it was his way with coping with the situation, so decided against arguing the point of exactly how real this situation was.

"Oh just take it easy, Izzy. I don't need you having a Benny like the boy did."

"What's with you and Riley lately?" I asked.

"Nothing. I just made him see a few home truths."

"Such as?"

"Oh not much. Just that you deserved more than a wanker like him."

"What?" I asked. "Is that what you two were arguing about?" Oh this was awkward.

"You know for a smart girl, you're really pretty stupid sometimes," he said, laughing. "You haven't noticed how he looks at you?"

I had to admit, I was oblivious to it, well until our most recent discussion. "He's a friend. At least from where I stand he is."

"Well from where I stand I think he sees you as more than a friend. Just saying..."

"But I've given him Victoria's number!" I argued.

"Who's Victoria?" he asked. And of course he wouldn't know.

"Erm, the psychotic redheaded woman who hit you," I whispered awkwardly, leaving out the fact that she was Rob Pattinson's driver and avoiding telling him about the drama that followed.

"What an ambulance chasing, redhead-loving twat!" he chuckled, making me burst into laughter in return, which helped released the stress I'd been feeling. "Sounds like a match made in heaven."

With those words and his relaxed demeanour, I found myself beginning to relax and for the next few hours, we talked about things that we'd never had time to talk about before. Every now and then Riley passed by, but avoided talking to us as he constantly did circuits of the rest of the museum. As much as I missed the three of us talking, it was good to just talk to London. He was usually so busy that I didn't see much of him when he worked, that this was a chance to get to know him better. Not that I really got to know very much. For the most part, he listened while I told him about my overbearing mother, my fears, dreams and aspirations. He had no choice but to listen, really, but seemed to be a willing listener at the same time. He was trapped, poor fella, but I wasn't about to leave him alone in case he lost the plot. It also stopped me from thinking about the fact that I'd probably already gone down that path, until finally the turmoil of the day caught up with me and I started yawning.

Riley walked in at the same time and said, "Just came back to let you know I'm going outside for a smoke. You coming?"

"No thanks. I might get some sleep though," I answered, shaking my head as I yawned once more.

"Sure. Be right back," Riley whispered as he glared at London briefly before turning and stomping away like a brat. I hoped that things wouldn't be odd between us now, and that things would work out with Victoria. Thank you, Victoria.

"If you're going to sleep here, make sure you keep your snoring down, Izzy. All that vibration might make me fall over and break...in bed."

"I don't snore!" I snapped in my defence.

"Bollocks. I know for a fact that you do," he argued. He often caught me sleeping at work and always had a go at me about it. I poked my tongue out at him in annoyance, which made him add, "I saw that!"

"I meant you to. Now shut up and let me sleep. Goodnight, gimp," I said as I smirked then leant against the wall, sliding my body down to the floor, leaning my head against the wall.

"Sweet dreams, Izzy. And remember...I see and hear all," he said, laughing evilly as I exhaled heavily and closed my eyes. I had no idea what he meant, but was too tired to care.

As I dozed, I heard an odd combination of sounds in my ears as I slipped into that half asleep/half awake state where I felt like I was falling off a cliff. The sounds echoed through my mind until they began to take shape and become sharper in clarity. Things seemed off. One minute I felt like I was floating, drifting, until a beeping sound invaded my senses, pulling me back, demanding me to wake up. At the same time I felt a hand grip my shoulder, shaking me.

~00~

"Miss? Wake up. Visiting hours are over."

"What?" I said as I stared around the unfamiliar, yet familiar surroundings, momentarily dazed and confused. "Where am I?" I muttered as I sat up and blinked, trying to focus, my mind still fuzzy as the nurse stared at me with a hardened face.

"You're at the hospital. Visiting hours. Over!" she snapped as she pointed at her watch.

And then I suddenly realised where I was. There he was laying in his bed, still out to it and I was in his room, sitting in the chair, still holding his hand. "Thank God!" I said as I realised it was all a dream...a strange, vivid fantasy, but a dream nonetheless.

"Miss?" she pressed as she stood there, tapping her foot.

"Right. I'm off. Cheers, London," I said as I let go of his hand, glanced at him once more and smiled as I stood up and walked out the door. The boy had indeed rubbed off on me.

~00~

"Jesus, where the hell have you been?" Riley asked as I walked through the already closed museum. Riley had already begun his rounds, but didn't like being left alone here. Couldn't say I blamed him either.

"Sorry. Fell asleep there," I said distractedly.

"He okay?" he asked, trying to catch my eye.

"Still out to it. Everyone out?" I asked, feeling a little jumpy after the dream I'd had.

"All clear. I just have to do the offices, and then we can get ourselves some tea," he answered. "You look upset. What's wrong?"

"Not much. I just had a strange dream. I dreamt about some of the Twilight cast," I said, not wanting to go into detail.

"Well, that's understandable considering who was here," he answered.

I really didn't want to get into any further conversation on the matter, so I changed the subject back to work. "Right, then let's get this done," I said determinedly. "I'll go do my bit and you check the offices."

Like a magnet to steel, I found myself pulled towards the display where the most famous wax figure stood.

"What's the hurry?" Riley asked in confusion as I raced ahead of him.

"Oh nothing. Just want to make up for lost time," I answered lamely.

"Okay, guess I'll see you soon," he said in concession as he stopped and turned towards the doorway to the offices.

"Sure," I said not even making eye contact with him. I could hear the confusion in his voice, but I didn't care how bonkers he thought I was. I knew I was still sane. Or was I? Was my dream the one of a madwoman? If nothing else, it would one that I'd probably write about someday. I laughed as I wondered who would read such a strange story.

I shivered as I found myself the same room that I'd dreamt about less than an hour before. I hesitated, my eyes darting everywhere before I slowed my pace and approached the hauntingly handsome figure before me. I swallowed thickly, mesmerised by the memory of my dream as I raised my hand up to touch the hair of the statue of Robert Pattinson, wanting more than anything to confirm that I was lucid. I jumped slightly as my phone began to ring, but I let it go unanswered even though the ringing seemed to be getting louder. Nothing was going to distract me from my mission now.

And then, as I ran my fingers through his lustrous hair and looked deeply into his eyes, the unmistakable sign that I was anything but sane rang through my ears.

"Oi!" I heard him shout, causing me to reel backwards. The last thing I remembered was my head hitting something hard...

~00~

I suddenly found myself sitting upright, sweating like a pig in heat, phone ringing as the sun streamed through the familiar window.

"No!" I screamed, realising that I was in my bedroom. I leaned over to the bedside table and picked up the phone, quickly rejecting Mum's call as I put my free hand to my chest.

"I'm home?" I said, confused and breathless, my eyes darting around the room as my heart raced and the sweat off my brow trickled down my face.

I checked the date and time on the phone, and nearly had a coronary. "Friday? It's still Friday? Bugger! I'm running late!" I shouted in disbelief as I jumped up, threw the phone on the bed and ran towards the bathroom to have a shower and get ready.

When I got out of the shower the phone buzzed, this time with a text message. Rolling my eyes and thinking it was Mum, I lay on the bed and picked up the phone. I put my hand over my mouth as I saw who it was from. It wasn't from Mum.

"London," I whispered as my breaths quickened while I read the message:

_Izzy, I like you too, so I accept your invitation. How about I bring dinner tonight?_

I gasped in horror as I read and reread the message, finally smiling as I typed three simple letters and pressed the send button. There was no doubt about it. This was going to be a very special day...

**A/N: Well, what do you think? I saw the movie Inception last week, which inspired the dream within a dream premise. Hope you liked it (are you still awake?) BTW this is officially the longest single chapter one shot I've written! :P PS to Rob:** **sorry there were no pop up illustrations to the story...LOL**


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